


Disappointment

by clearbluewater



Series: Gigolas Week 2014 [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Drunkenness, Gigolas Week, M/M, Meeting the Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearbluewater/pseuds/clearbluewater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wine never disappoints me,” Thranduil said, cradling his flagon.<br/>“I don’t know, I thought that 2225 Dorwinion was pretty disappointing.”<br/>“Galion?”<br/>“Yes?”<br/>“Shut up.”<br/>“Yes, your majesty.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disappointment

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 4 of Gigolas Week for the prompt "Meet the Parents", posted on Day 5 because I am a rebel.

            “Galion!”

            Galion almost choked on his illicit wine. “Your majesty!” he said with a hasty bow, holding the flagon of wine behind his back. Not that he thought it would fool Thranduil, but it was still good to keep up appearances.

            “Give me,” Thranduil said, stumbling over to snatch the flagon from Galion. He was unusually pale and his lips were unusually red, giving him the appearance of a drunkard spirit, intent on haunting the wine cellar for the rest of his afterlife. He drained the flagon in an impressively small amount of time and refused to believe it was empty until he had overturned it twice and no more wine was forthcoming. He threw it back to Galion, shouting “More!”

            Galion sighed and went to refill the flagon. So it was going to be one of _those_ nights. Thranduil hadn’t been this bad for a couple of centuries. Thranduil slumped down to the floor, resting his forehead on a barrel. He was already stumbling, slurring drunk. He had probably already drunk all the wine the servants were willing to give him upstairs, and then had probably bullied them for more. Someone had either put their foot down or they had run out of wine up there.

            “What’s happened now?” he asked as he took a sip from the refilled flagon before handing it to Thranduil. The king had his fill of the new wine before responding.

            “Dwarves!” he cried, throwing his arms out wide. Some wine splashed out, and Galion winced. Galion would rather have absolutely nothing to do with dwarves after that whole barrel incident. He really hoped Thranduil wouldn’t bring that up again.

            “Dwarves, trying to get their grubby hands on my greatest treasure!”

            “Sounds terrible,” Galion said, plucking the flagon from Thranduil’s hands. His king had a death grip on it and refused to release it until Galion reminded him that he was going to refill it.  While Galion was doing that, a guard came down, looking around.

            “He’s here,” Galion mouthed. The guard looked relieved.

            “You’re going to give him more?” the guard mouthed.

            “There’s no stopping him now. He’s got to pass out at some point, might as well be sooner than later.”

            The guard looked like he doubted Galion’s reasoning, but the slurring voice of their king was calling for more wine. “You really want him up there?” Galion said, and the guard conceded to the reason of that. “I’ll take care of him,” Galion promised, and the elf reluctantly left, probably stationing himself at the entrance of the cellar.

            “So what are those nasty dwarves trying to steal now?” Galion asked conversationally as he sat down beside Thranduil with a flagon of his own. It wasn’t like Thranduil was in any condition to stop him from drinking.

            “My _Legolas_ ,” Thranduil said, choking back a sob. “My baby boy!”

            “They’re trying to steal the prince? Well, they’ll have a time trying to do that. Legolas doesn’t fit so well into a barrel, remember?” Galion said.

            Shortly after the whole dwarf escape debacle, Thranduil had ordered a safety report on the cellar and the barrels and made all the elves who were currently in his bad graces to recreate the escape plan. Conclusion: elves were too fucking big to fit in those barrels. Legolas, as well as Galion, had been given the privilege of being cramped in the barrels, buffeted by the current, and laughed at by the raft elves. Galion had no doubt that the report Legolas had written about that little adventure was a choice piece of literature.

            “That dwarf had the aud…aud…audity… _cheek_ to ask me for Legolas’s hand!”

            It was an unfortunate time for Thranduil to drop that extraordinary tidbit of information, because Galion had just taken a swallow of wine. It went down the wrong pipe and made Galion cough and splutter.

            “He—he wants to _marry_ the prince?” Galion asked. He had heard that Legolas had formed a most scandalous friendship with a dwarf who had been in the war with him, but he hadn’t heard _that_ yet. Oh, the gossip mill of the Elvenking’s palace would be working overtime, with Galion himself as the miller.

            “Yes!” Thranduil said, making a large, expressive gesture that ended up hitting Galion in the face. “He wants to take my little Green Leaf and hide him away in that dank, dark, drafty mountain of his! And you know what? Legolas wants him to!”

            “No!” Galion said, eager to hear more.

            “Yes! I know not what charms that dwarf has laid on my son to make him think that, but I am certainly not consenting to their marriage! I need more wine.”

            Galion refilled Thranduil’s flagon with what was left of his, and went to replenish his own flagon. “Maybe it’s just a rebellious phase. Don’t children do that?”

            “Like you’d know, you greasy drunkard,” Thranduil said, lashing out at Galion with his foot.

            “Ow! Very uncalled for, your majesty. I may not have children myself, but I always seem to be taking care of you when you’re like this. I don’t see the appeal, frankly. It seems like a lot of hard work for nothing but disappointment.”

            “Wine never disappoints me,” Thranduil said, cradling his flagon.

            “I don’t know, I thought that 2225 Dorwinion was pretty disappointing.”

            “Galion?”

            “Yes?”

            “Shut up.”

            “Yes, your majesty.”

            “More,” Thranduil said, holding out his flagon. Wasn’t demanding drink refills a childlike thing? Thranduil really was a big baby when he was drunk. A big baby who was also the king and could have him executed if he so wished, Galion reminded himself.

            “So what are you going to do about the dwarf? You can’t very well kick him out or lock him up. Erebor would be in uproar.”

            “I can stop him from marrying my son!”

            “But can you? Legolas is an adult. He can marry without your permission.”

            “Not if he or that dwarf ever wishes to set foot in my domain again! I will not give Legolas a thing if he marries that good for nothing _naug_!” Thranduil’s speech was becoming harder and harder to understand, and his eyelids were drooping slightly. That elf could drink! He’d had what, four flagons? Just since he’d been in the cellar? Galion was hardly keeping his eyes open and he’d had less than half of what Thranduil had. Thranduil was starting to slump, and Galion removed his crown and set Thranduil’s head on his lap. That crown couldn’t possibly be comfortable to sleep in.

            “Unhand me,” Thranduil said petulantly while simultaneously making himself more comfortable in Galion’s lap.

            “Of course, your majesty,” Galion said, stroking Thranduil’s hair. When the guard came a little while later to check on them, he found them slumped together, snoring. 

**Author's Note:**

> I really thought this was going somewhere, but it kind of fizzled. Honestly, Legolas's barrel report is the most interesting thing to come out of this mess. I'm totally going to write that after Gigolas Week.


End file.
